


My heart was a battlefield and you conquered it

by Rvensfeather



Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Romantic Fluff, can this even be called a fanfic?, it's more like a ficlet but nvm, palamedes centric, pally is soft for william and william only, soft!pally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28668483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rvensfeather/pseuds/Rvensfeather
Summary: Palamedes reflects on his relationship with William and just how he fell in love with him. It was soft and slow and somehow it was everything.
Relationships: Palamedes/William Shakespeare (Nicholas Flamel)
Kudos: 4





	My heart was a battlefield and you conquered it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twonkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twonkie/gifts).



> Hello my fellow sinf-friends!  
> This secret santa for Vi from the discord marks my first sinf fanfiction on here...Yayyy. On a more serious note, I hope you all enjoy this fic, but fyi, there's not much action and a lot of thought, so if you don't like that this might not be the fic for you. Every mistake you find is my own and you can just make me aware of them so I can correct them.  
> I hope that, whenever you read this, you have a wonderful day and stay safe!  
> Love you all

There were many things he loved about William, so many, that in fact, if you asked him, he couldn’t tell you a single thing. He was never one for words anyway. His love for William was that sort of love conveyed through glances full of warmth, blankets thrown over a sleeping body and the smell of comfort food. It was that sort of love only ever conveyed through actions, but never through words.

It didn’t matter to them. 

Their love wasn’t sparking flames that killed entire woods in their desire for more. It wasn’t fire consuming everything in its way. Their love wasn’t fast or hot or rushed. Their love was the fire in the fireplace, slowly but surely warming up the room. It was modest and dimmed but it was always there, and that’s all they ever needed.

Love came slowly to them, Palamedes mused. Love built itself onto their trust, so slowly, that, at first, he didn’t even notice.

It wasn’t until William was-once again- cooking furiously to get a hold of his anger. In that moment, when the small man ran through their kitchen, looking so adorably angry, that it struck the knight. The warmth that filled him at this view wasn’t just friendship anymore. He loved that man and would do everything- anything- to protect him.

And so he did. If Palamedes looked back- he rarely did, there was too much not worth seeing. If Palamedes looked back he liked to think that there were many occasions on which he saved Will, although his little one liked to say otherwise.

Technically speaking, Palamedes knew it was a horribly selfish thing to think. Saving someone isn’t something he should brag about- it had been his job for a long time. But still, helping Will get out of whatever trouble he had attracted always made him feel so much better than he was.

There was just something about the thankfulness in those blue eyes looking at him, something in the way Williams' face lit up with relief when he saw him, that made Palamedes forget about all the terrible things that happened.

Everytime Wills eyes did that his heart stopped and time froze the way it did shortly before the fight began. That one moment, that stretched itself out for eternity and yet was shorter than a heartbeat, that one moment, in which the silence filled his ears, made him go deaf before all hell broke loose. 

Maybe his heart was a war, which William had soothed. Maybe his heart was a battlefield, because then William had conquered it with ease. Maybe his heart was a fortress, but then William had climbed her walls and knocked on his door. 

Whatever way Palamedes looked at it, he could only come to one conclusion: William had wormed his way into his heart and heaven forbid he’d ever let him go.

At his thoughts he almost snorted. William would definitely laugh at him for thinking that way. Words just weren’t his speciality, he knew that. A sword in his hand made him feel more powerful than any pen in his hand could ever.

But Palamedes had a long life already, never doubting there would be much more to follow. And he knew that swords weren’t able to solve every problem. As much as he would’ve liked them to, it’s been long since life had been this simple.

And even if he would never admit it, William had saved him on that front more than once. He loved the way his little one was able to talk his way out of everything, choose his words so wisely they built a construct you were afraid to shatter. He loved the way Will could go from the eloquent writer of the 16th century he used to be to being just William.

Palamedes liked to say he didn’t care what William was in front of him, but he did. Truth be told, as the time came to pass, William Shakesspeare began to feel more and more like a concept, an idea overglorified. When William Shakesspeare was in front of him, it felt more like a mask than a person.

He liked just William better. William, who, while occasionally using rare words, talked like he belonged into the time they were in. William who didn’t believe in bathing and William, who cooked furiously when he was angry. If he was entirely honest, he loved William, who made the entire house smell like burned lemons,so so so much more.

Maybe it was because William recently left Shakespeare more often than not that Palamedes did this. Maybe it was because William had gone on to calling him Pally lately, a tooth-rotting name that made his stomach flip and turn. Maybe it was because even if love is conveyed not through words but through actions, sometimes the time is right for words.

What a lucky man I am, Palamedes thought while writing, that my partner is a writer. He would know what those words meant. He would be able to decipher the message Palamedes would never be brave enough to say. He would be able to see all the things left unsaid.

While writing, he wondered if this was what it felt like to be defeated.

“My heart was a battlefield and you conquered it.”


End file.
